Robbie Savage's mum Val's inspirational fight for her Covid booster third jab

Call off the chain gang... I’ve finally had my Covid booster

A big mix-up, which left me in a tizzy and tears, saw me plot an OAP protest.

All my friends were given their booster jabs but my appointment letter never arrived.

I waited and waited. I tried to speak to call centres but a robot asked me to type numbers in on my phone, which my mind and fingers couldn’t manage.

I was diverted to this department and that department. And when I finally spoke to someone, they insisted I hadn’t had my second jab so wasn’t in the mysterious “system”.

But I did have my second jab, I’ve lived in the same house for decades and I am certain of my date of birth – so how could all the computers have so many crossed wires and the “system” have me so wrong?

The Government is currently rolling out its vaccine booster programme across the country (Dinendra Haria/LNP)

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My old schoolfriend Janet sent endless emails to try to sort things out but she was just driven round in circles. Days of constant calls, texts and emails passed and the longer I waited, the more vulnerable I felt.

I wanted that extra Covid protection but could not get the call centre cogs to turn in the right direction.

I needed to go shopping but without the booster felt even more shaky going into public places. And it made me extra reliant on people, which makes me feel guilty. The whole mess left my brain like a box of frogs.

My friend Sheila had a plan: we would protest. She said: “You, me and Janet will stage a sit-in at the vaccination centre until you get your booster jab. We’ll chain ourselves to railings and the police will have to physically remove us.”

It would have to be a sit-in, because my old legs never let me stand long. And I would have laughed at the thought of our old lady revolt if I hadn’t felt so naggy.

Before Sheila, Janet and I had a chance to start singing We Shall Not Be Moved, my eldest son, Jonathan, visited and I told him I felt like shooting myself. He said that I needed to have a good cry, so that’s exactly what I did.

Thanks to a great bunch of friends and family who have the patience and know-how to wade through all the admin palaver, I finally received my appointment along with a lovely apology note from the NHS.

I’d never have a go at the NHS – I stood on one leg and clapped for them all through lockdown because I appreciate their service so much.

But wading through the admin surrounding them is so stressful it could give anyone a heart attack.

Happily, I had my booster and flu jab yesterday. Chains weren’t used and police weren’t called in the end.

We need to remind ourselves how lucky we are

If ever I’m down I’m usually able to pick myself up. A blast of Motown stops my moping and gets me dancing (in my mind, if not my legs). Face-timing my grandkids brightens any dull day. And I’m a great believer in the therapeutic properties of KitKats.

But sometimes I need to work a bit harder to cheer up. I’m human, so I can’t be laughing and joking all the time. And when the whole booster jab problem got to me, I couldn’t settle and knew I needed to go the extra mile to shake it off.

Janet offered to take me out and I had a hankering for cheese on toast. The local hospice has a lovely cafe so off we went. And I got a lot more than a tasty toastie there.

While the pair of us enjoyed a lovely little lunch, just being near a place where people live their last days reminded me how lucky I am to be able to walk into fresh air, to smell the grass and hear the birds.

I realised how fortunate I am to still be able to be on this earth. My worries about my delayed booster vanished.

Colourful cars

Janet has a fancy new car and I told her I loved the posh grey colour.

She said: “It’s green”.

We argued about it for a while until we realised I can add colour blind to my list of ailments.

When Janet said: “Is there nothing right with you?”, the pair of us bowed our heads and laughed until we couldn’t move. In the end I said: “Please stop - I will ruin my Tena Lady”. And she said: “We have to stop - I don’t have one on.”

And we were off again.

Sweet treats

Each year in the run-up to Hallowe’en I buy bags of sweets for the kids in the street who’ll knock on my door in their fancy-dress finery.

Each year I specifically buy chocolate coins because I know my arthritic hands can’t open the net bag or prise open the foil coin wrappers to eat them myself.

And each year I don’t know whether to be impressed or appalled at the new-found strength of my fingers.

So all my chocolate coins are gone - four big bags. I hid the fun-size bags of Maltesers, also bought for the children, down the side of the unit. But I have a horrible feeling I might gain the agility of an athlete and they’ll soon be gone too.

Sorry kids.

Fancy dress fun

Our Robert and Jonathan never liked dressing up so didn’t do the Hallowe’en door knocks. The only clothes they loved were football strips.

Me and my late husband only ever went to one fancy dress party. It was thrown by Colin’s boss and we knew everyone was going to a huge effort to look amazing.

But there wasn’t much left in the fancy dress shop in Wrexham and I knew there was no point in trying to compete.

So in the end I decided we’d just go as a pair of scruffs, with torn and tatty old clothes, mainly for comfort and so I could wear my flip flops.

On the night everyone else looked spectacular, with immaculate costumes like the Mad Hatter and weird and wonderful wigs, make up and props.

Then it was time for the boss to announce the winner. He said: “The top prize must go to Mr and Mrs Savage for coming as their namesakes.”

He thought we’d come as savages. Colin and I hadn’t even thought of that.

• If you’d like to contact Val, please email features@mirror.co.uk or write to Val Savage, PO Box 7290, E14 5DD
• The Mirror makes a donation to the Alzheimer’s Society in lieu of payment. alzheimers.org.uk